


Ocean

by justbecauseyoubelievesomething



Series: Writer's Month 2020 Prompts [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beaches, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Ocean, Post Season 1, ish, let these kids have a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething
Summary: A Bellarke drabble for Writer's Month 2020. Prompt 6: ocean.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Writer's Month 2020 Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863823
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Ocean

The sand is rough on the soles of Clarke’s feet, sending a pricking sensation racing up her legs. She wiggles her toes until the sand pushes between them and ripples up around the outside of her foot. Underneath the rough upper layer, the sand is damp and soft; pushed up along the shore over hundreds of years and sifted down to be a satiny cushion for Clarke’s toes.

She giggles and Bellamy gives her a look.  _ The _ Bellamy look.

“What?” She wiggles her toes again and laughs. “We made it, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, sure looks that way,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s a shadow at her side, always a half step away, coiled tenser than a spring.

Most of the delinquents don’t share Bellamy’s hesitation. They reached the shore a mere half hour earlier and already the kids are strung out along a good hundred yards of the beach. Most of them ran laughing and screaming straight into the shallows to splash. Clarke’s memory nags her to remind them of mutated sea creatures and dangers from the woods behind them, but the cold breeze tinged with salt rushes over her and drowns out her doubts. She breathes it in and then breathes again, tasting the sea on her tongue. It’s glorious. Marvelous. Alive.

The sky is a damp silver stretching in both directions and endlessly in front of them. The pebbly beach runs down to meet the foaming green-blue of the ocean waves, a strip of glossy wet shore evident whenever the tide pulls back before the sea pushes forward again. Clarke is mesmerized by the ebb and flow; a pattern as regular as a pulse under her fingertips.

She turns to Bellamy again, flashing a reassuring smile. “Come on, Bellamy. We did it. We’re safe.”

His jaw tightens and he surveys the beach in both directions. Even Miller left his rifle propped against his pack so that he could wade into the waves. It’s far too cold to be in the water. Even here on the shore, Clarke’s neck is covered in goosebumps. But there’s a joy to being alive and well that fills her insides with warmth and she aches to join her friends in the water.

“Bellamy.” She reaches out to touch his arm lightly. A month ago, he would have brushed her off or flinched at the intrusion. Now he looks down at her fingers then up to meet her earnest stare. “You kept them safe. All of us, safe.”

He swallows sharply and reaches up to grasp her hand in quiet gratitude. Clarke doesn’t know when she and Bellamy Blake became able to talk like this, with looks and touches instead of words. But she’s grateful for it too, as much as for the sand between her toes and the sound of gulls crying above her head.

“We’re not all safe,” Bellamy says lowly and she doesn’t have to look to know who he’s talking about. A little ways from them, Finn sits next to Raven’s stretcher, seemingly mindless of the sand and the sea. Instead he grips Raven’s hand tightly and talks to her in whispers. Clarke isn’t even sure the girl is awake.

Farther down the shore, she can just make out the outline of Jasper Jordan, wandering up and down with a slow, staggering step. Even though they’re many miles out of range, he listlessly clicks his handheld radio on every so often, eyes blank as he listens to the static.

Clarke firms her chin.

“We’ll find Monty. We’ll get help for Raven.” She meets Bellamy’s gaze again, his dark eyes searching, always searching for something. She flips her hand so that he can thread his fingers through her own and she squeezes hard. “You and me - we’ll always take care of our people.”

“You and me,” he repeats and he stands a little bit straighter.

There’s still so much to do. The mysterious Luna to find. Grounders on their trail. Pieces of the Ark somewhere out there in the woods.

But right now, there’s only one thing Clarke needs to do.

She tugs Bellamy forward, spinning to face him as she steps backwards towards the waves.

“What are we doing?”

She smirks a little and kicks some sand up onto the toes of his boots.

“We didn’t come all this way just to admire the view. So hurry up and take your shoes off.”

He hesitates, gaze darting back to the treeline and Clarke tugs his hand again.

“Just for today, Bellamy.” She furrows her brow pleadingly. “Just for me.”

He softens then, letting a hint of a smile slip.

“Just for you? I guess.”

She pulls him in a stumbling run down to the tideline and they both gasp when the icy water hits their toes. The contrast between the warmth of their joined hands and the biting cold of the sea keeps Clarke grounded as they jump over the rolling waves that threaten their shins. Something about being there together, being alive together, makes her start laughing. She laughs and Bellamy laughs and they can’t stop.

When Bellamy shoves her into the surf, she’s not even mad. She chases him into waist deep water and jumps on him, attempting to dunk him. It becomes a silly, thrilling, breathtaking game without end, even when their limbs become numb and every inch of their clothing is drenched through.

When it starts to get dark, the delinquents straggle back into a group and build a fire on the beach. Bellamy posts a few sentries, but most of them huddle together, letting their wet clothes dry and talking in tired, but happy whispers. Clarke leans on Bellamy’s shoulder, soaking in the warmth of the fire and when he laces their fingers together to rest on her knee, it feels good to be alive.


End file.
